He has a point. I do want to meet someone who wants to be flirty and get dirty with me.
So when TJ tells me my new handle, I smile.
What have I got to lose?
A few days later, I’m in the kitchen whipping up a garbanzo bean dish, listening to the insane details of the Templeton murder case when my phone lights up.
A burst of excitement pings through me. “Again? How many times am I going to get swiped?” I ask myself.
But I’m not upset. I’m loving every second of this. It’s like an embarrassment of riches.
TJ was dead on. That man has some kind of golden touch.
Problem is, I haven’t met anyone who can talk beyond raisins.
But I’m game to find that special someone. I click open my notifications.
And whoa.
Hello, handsome.
Check out those hazel eyes that see into my soul.
And yes, please, to that just-the-right-amount-of-stubble.
How about that carved jaw?
And I will take a side order of that broad chest, thank you very much.
But if that’s not a stock photo I will eat my shoes. In short, this guy is better than an oatmeal raisin cookie.
He’s got to be too good to be true.
It’s a catfisher. No way can anyone be that good-looking for real. Still, with a face like that, I click so hard on his message.
Guy with the Pipes: But have you tried a cowboy cookie?
I laugh. What the hell is that? Since I have access to Google, I don’t ask Pipe Guy that question. I search for it, since a man should always be prepared.
And holy hell. That cookie looks delicious.
Doctor Good in Bed: How did I not know about the existence of such baked goods perfection?
* * *
Guy with the Pipes: I was wondering that myself. Cowboy cookies are the unsung treats of the baked goods world.
* * *
Doctor Good in Bed: Evidently. Perhaps it’s just proof of the universal truth that everything’s a little better with coconut.
* * *
Guy with the Pipes: Coconut does have one of my favorite things in it.
I laugh. That’s more than reasonably funny. He’s punny.
Doctor Good in Bed: Oh, you like . . . cocoa?
* * *
Guy with the Pipes: Almost as much as I like . . .
* * *
Doctor Good in Bed: Cookies, I take it? Almost as much as you like cookies?
* * *
Guy with the Pipes: Exactly. You figured me out, Doc.
* * *
Doctor Good in Bed: And I’m figuring out these cowboy cookies that have been missing from my life. Cowboy cookies have oatmeal, raisins, nuts, chocolate chips, and coconut. That’s like sex in cookie form.
* * *
Guy with the Pipes: So basically the two greatest things ever?
* * *
Doctor Good in Bed: Yes. Yes, they are. How do you know of this greatness? Are you a cowboy?
* * *
Guy with the Pipes: No, but I’ve played one a few times. Along with a cop. A fireman. A billionaire. A fighter pilot. A rock star. And a sports hero.
* * *
Doctor Good in Bed: Either you have a very active imagination, you’re super into role-playing, which is fine by me, or you’re a world-renowned actor.
* * *
Guy with the Pipes: Role-play is a yes for me too. Also, my imagination is red-hot and radioactive. And I’m an audiobook narrator.
* * *
Doctor Good in Bed: That’s awesome. Have you ever played a vet?
* * *
Guy with the Pipes: As in a soldier? Yes.
* * *
Doctor Good in Bed: No, as in the super-awesome badass kind that knows how to speak dog.
* * *
Guy with the Pipes: You can speak dog? And you like oatmeal raisin cookies and look like that? Insert fire emoji.
* * *
Doctor Good in Bed: Insert eggplant emoji. And yes, I do. I’m fluent in it.
* * *
Guy with the Pipes: I’m fluent in knowing what I want. Do you want to take this to FaceTime?
* * *
Doctor Good in Bed: I do. But I’ve got to know: how are you going to manage to look as good as your profile pic when that’s clearly a stock photo of a super-hot guy?
* * *
Guy with the Pipes: You think that’s a stock photo?
* * *
Doctor Good in Bed: I think there’s a damn good chance. No one is that good-looking in real life.
* * *
Guy with the Pipes: Thank you, Doctor Good in Bed. But I’m me. And I hope you’re you.
Oh yes, I am me, and this is nearly too good to be true. There is no way he can be this flirty, this fun, and look like Thor. We exchange numbers and seconds later, FaceTime is ringing.
I pick up and holy smokes. Either this guy has the world’s best filter or he really is this good-looking, and I am a lucky motherfucker.
I point to the screen. “There has to be something wrong with you. No one this good-looking should be on an app.”